


The Mist

by mrua7



Series: Strange, scary stories and the Man from U.N.C.L.E. [20]
Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Gen, Halloween, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-26
Updated: 2015-10-26
Packaged: 2018-04-27 22:40:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5067367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrua7/pseuds/mrua7
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Napoleon and Illya must investigate an abandoned town.  Originally posted for the Scrapbook Halloween Challenge on Live Journal</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Mist

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Garonne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Garonne/gifts).



 

 

Napoleon Solo gazed down upon utter desolation of abandoned buildings, left long ago by their occupants. They’d been given a single warning to evacuate or suffer some sort of violent end at the hands of an unidentified megalomaniac.

They simply left, gathering what they could and leaving behind almost everything...clothing, furniture, children’s toys.

He looked at a small red-haired rag doll, dirty and weather stained, that lay at his feet; the sight of it filled him with a hollow sadness

After the people left, so did the man who had threatened them.  And now well after the fact everyone stayed away from the place, stories of it being haunted, which in Napoleon’s mind was ridiculous.

None of this made sense, but none the less things had to be investigated.

 

Illya was the one who found the body, desiccated and mummified in silence as he sat at his desk.  It was quite startling at first, seeing the shrunken grey skin, and the man's lips bared back in a permanent grimace. It was no doubt one who had orchestrated this mass exodus, but for what purpose? And why was he dead? That among many questions were  what he and Solo were here to find out.

Kuryakin was usually a man who was rarely taken unawares, but the sight of the corpse him jump back and in doing so, he bumped into a lab table, knocking over vials still filled with noxious looking chemicals.

He watched as a mist began to form as the liquids combined, and he quickly covered his face with his handkerchief. To his amazement, he saw an unsuspecting cockroach scuttle into the small white cloud that clung to the top of the lab table.

The creature was stopped dead in its tracks, literally, as it seized up and rolled to its back, shriveled like the body of the man at the desk.

Illya made a quick retreat, calling for his partner to get out fast.

“I may have released some sort of deadly chemical! Run!”

And run they did, away from the building, scrambling up a steep hillside until they could go no farther.

“What the hell is that?” Napoleon gasped as he watched a white vaporous cloud begin to grow in the air above the abandoned buildings.

“I found the man we were looking for, and that is, I think the result of his experiments.” He pointed to the mist and told his partner about knocking over the vials holding some nasty looking chemicals and after doing so, that mist appeared and began to grow.

As the cloud expanded the two agents watched with amazement as a flock of birds flew into it, dropping immediately to the ground, stone cold dead.

The mist crept closer and closer towards the agents; Napoleon and Illya realizing they’d made a strategic error.  The backside of what they thought was a hill was in fact a cliff, and peeking over the precipice they saw nothing but jagged rocks below.

The mist was growing, billowing as it moved nearer to them up the side of the hill.

Solo, ever the optimist suddenly gave over to the finality of the situation. “I guess this is goodbye,”Napoleon said, holding out his hand to his partner.

“It has been an honor my friend,” Illya clasped Solo’s hand and held onto it with a tight grip.

Together they sat shoulder to shoulder in silence, waiting for the end as the mist was almost upon them, moving like a giant undulating creature with its tendrils reaching out towards them every so slowly.

It seemed to have a life of its own, though neither man wanted to admit that. They were resigned to die every day, but not like this, having the life sucked out of themselves at the unfeeling hands of a cold cloud of white mist.

Better a bullet than this and realizing that, Illya was the first to draw his weapon from his shoulder holster.

“Shall we end it now?”

Napoleon shrugged; he was filled feeling of sadness and resignation, yet something in his heart wouldn’t let him say yes.

There was a sudden gust of wind, followed by another. Slowly the cloud began to dissipate, carried away on the breeze until it was nothing but a frightening memory.

“I’m glad I didn’t say yes,” Napoleon said as he stood.

“Me too.” Illya put away his gun but at his suggestion, he thought it might be too soon to go back down again.

After waiting what seemed like a reasonable amount of time, the agents returned to the lab from which the cloud had emanated.

To Illya’s shock; the body of the doctor was gone…

Lining the tables in the lab were the innumerable glass containers filled with red, green, and purple liquids, but they daren’t touch them.

“My suggestion will be to have this place put under a strict quarantine until Research and Development can get in here with hazardous material suits and check out what’s in those vials.”  Napoleon pulled his communicator, telling Alexander Waverly just that.

The Old Man harumphed is annoyance that nearly losing his two best agents because a matter of clumsiness.  
“I suggest you get yourselves out of there, and do so carefully...Mr. Kuryakin.”

“You have my word on that sir.

“Very well then. I’ll expect you in New York by Monday, Waverly out.”

“Yes, good idea to get out of here.” Illya seemed nervous as he continued to look around; his head filled with a strange idea the cloud was not only capable of killing but conversely being able to reanimate the dead. He tried dismissing it as it was pure unsubstantiated conjecture...in other words, nonsense.

He said nothing to Solo, and as they departed Illya sighed with relief to be free of the place. They had nearly been killed because of his clumsiness, and that didn’t sit well with him.

“Back there, it gave me, how you say… the willies?”

“Me too,” Solo nodded. “I’ll be glad to be on a jet bound for home.”

“I apologize for nearly getting us killed my friend. I should not have been startled by that body, but yet I was.” In the back of his mind, images from his childhood interment in the concentration camp near Baba Yar came to mind; the bodies...the untolled dead haunted his dreams to this day.

As they drove down the darkened road, something moved in front of car, bathed in the headlights for a brief second. Solo slammed on the brakes, but there was nothing there.

“Just go,” Illya said. There was an anxiousness in his voice, one that Napoleon was unaccustomed to hearing.

“You really are spooked, aren’t you tovarisch?”

“The farther away from this place, the happier I will be. So put your foot on the gas pedal please?”

Putting it off to his imagination: he decided it best to not tell Napoleon what had crossed their paths resembled the mummified body of the mad scientist…

“Okay I will, just keep your shirt on,” Napoleon couldn’t help but say it, seeing his already pale partner looking even paler...if that were possible,” You know Illya you really look like you just saw a ghost.”

Kuryakin didn’t try to refute his partner’s words, nor did he deny them either...

 


End file.
